Water is Death
by The Night was Moist
Summary: All sentient species have their hang-ups, and Caitians are no exception.


**Author's Note: **This fic features Star Trek's fave felinoid M'Ress, a character from The Animated Series. M'Ress - as envisioned by me - is Nyota's friend, fellow communications officer, and roomie. Even though she knows many languages, her English still needs work. Also, she's got a thing for a certain young Russian. That's all you really need to know. Oh yeah, I forgot...she also loves to eat live animals. If you want more details, please see my other story "M'Ress." In Star Trek lore, M'Ress is not pronounced _Em_ress. It's actually pronounced Mer_ess_ (with "er" as in Ernest). However, Nyota usually calls her "Mer" for short (which I spell as Mrr).

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek

**Water is Death**

If you were to ask some stuffy and straight-laced admiral about what makes Starbase 24 so special, he or she would probably give you the official spiel. It's a repair facility, used for patching up damaged starships. It's a gathering place, used for diplomatic negotiations between space-faring species. It's a military station, used for coordinating defenses against hostile actions.

Well, maybe that admiral would be right. Maybe Starbase 24 _is _used for all those things.

But for the rest of us weary and overworked officers of the fleet, Starbase 24 is Party Central.

How could it not be? The starbase is the crown jewel of the entire sector. On the outside, it's a massive space station, orbiting a big, lifeless moon. But on the inside, it has a myriad of entertainment possibilities, including shops, restaurants, shops, movie theatres, shops, beauty salons, shops, nightclubs, shops, gymnasiums...and did I mention shops? But the shops aren't the only defining feature of the starbase. No, it's also known for its swimming pool. And not a little puddle of a pool, like the one onboard the Enterprise, but a _giant-sized _pool with almost all the aquatic amenities that one could hope for.

While docked at the starbase, the ship has gotten some much-needed repair and maintenance in preparation for a deep space mission. As my friends and I can attest to, our _bank accounts_ are going to need some much-needed repair and maintenance, given how much we've spent over the past week. But instead of worrying about our lack of credits, we're determined to spend our final hours in a state of complete relaxation, getting rejuvenated for the long space journey ahead of us.

As I lean over my bed, busily cramming my things into my gym bag, I find myself dreaming about what it'll be like to swim around blissfully in the soft, soothing water. But my reverie is soon interrupted by the sound of twin doors swishing open.

Finally.

Turning around, I shoot my roomie an annoyed glare. "Mrr, where've you been? Are you ready?"

She just stands there, her fuzzy face looking completely clueless. "Ready?"

Releasing an impatient sigh, I go back to stuffing a towel into my bag. "Yes, ready! For the pool, remember? We're meeting the girls in ten minutes." My hands pause in their packing as my eyes gaze upwards. "Oh, Mrr, did you know it has a retractable ceiling? I've heard that if you lay back in the water and look up at the stars, it's almost like you're floating in the depths of space."

"Sounds great," she says with a shrug. "Not going."

"What?" I exclaim, spinning around to look at her. "Why not?"

"Do not wish to," she says with another shrug, as she ambles over to her bed and plops down upon the sheets.

"But we've been talking about it all week!"

She points at me, accusingly. "_You've _been talking. Not I."

"But why can't you come?"

She waves her hand dismissively. "Because water is death, Human. All Caitians know this."

I just groan. It's always _something _with her. "What do you mean, 'death'?"

Straightening her posture, her face turns most serious. "It is death," she confirms with a solemn nod. "We learn from early age. From when we are kits and kittens. 'Stay. Away. From. Water.' Yes, you can drink. Yes, you can boat..." she points a finger into the air "...if you are crazy enough to. But you do not actually go _in _water."

"You mean, at _all_? I know you don't take baths or showers or anything. But what about just for fun?"

Her face becomes incredulous. "Fun? How is death 'fun', Human? On Cait...lakes, seas, even rivers...all are filled with predators. What business do terrestrial species have in such environments?"

"Mrr, the pool is on a starbase, okay? The only thing it's going to be _filled _with is water."

"Filled with _death,_ you mean," she shoots back, with a disdainful toss of her thick hair. "And when death gets in lungs? Game. Over."

"What, you think you might drown? But Mrr..."

"But? No buts!" she yells, throwing her hand up in a stopping motion. "Look at me, Human! Do I have fins? Do I have flippers? Do I have..." she waves a finger at her neck "...what are fish slits...?"

"Gills."

"Gills. Do I have gills? No. And nor do you. Why? Because we. Are not made. For water!"

"But Mrr," I repeat, my teeth gritted in growing frustration. "You can't tell me you don't know how to swim. It's basic Starfleet training."

"Ahhhh!" she screams, shutting her eyes and grasping her head. "Why do you hate me, Human? That memory was blocked, I tell you! Blocked!"

I roll my eyes, not in the least impressed by her histrionics. "Well, you don't need gills for the hot tub, Mrr. Could you at least join us for that?"

Suddenly quite recovered from her mental trauma, Mrr slowly lifts her head. "Hot tub?" she replies, mouthing the words to herself. "What is hot tub?"

Attempting to demonstrate, I hold my arms in a circular shape in front of me. "It's just a big tub that everybody sits in, but it has really hot water." I let loose a long sigh. "It feels _so _heavenly."

But Mrr's eyes narrow into a suspicious glare. "Everybody is in tub? And it is _hot, _you say?" Slowly, she begins to shake her head. "Even Caitians are not immune to _disease, _Human."

With an exhale of frustration, I return to throwing my things into my gym bag. Really, I should just give up. I mean, if she doesn't want to go, then she doesn't want to go.

But then I think about something that I forgot to tell her. It's a little tidbit of information that I heard at lunch today. It's a very _important _tidbit...very ominous...and I bet she'd be changing her tune if she knew about it. In fact, I doubt that a Solurian seadragon could keep her away from that pool the moment she hears what I have to say.

But when I turn around to tell her about it, I find that she's looking back at me with a smug expression of victory, tinged with defiance. Since we both belong to different species, we often get into altercations over the craziest of things, and she obviously believes that she's the winner of this round. To tell the truth, she's been winning a _lot _of rounds lately - the clever kitty - and I'm beginning to feel a little bit irked by it.

With a sigh, I find myself looking around the room, when my attention is drawn to her food locker sitting against the opposite wall. It's a massive, ditanium-enforced chest that has its own ventilation system and is divided up into many compartments. I find myself thinking about the little beasties in those compartments. Unless she's really hungry, Mrr devours one a day. But before she does, she likes to play with them, just like how a cat plays with a doomed mouse.

Suddenly, a sly smile forms upon my lips, as I realize that this round isn't over yet. No, not by a long shot. Usually, her eating habits only disturb me, but now I'm finding them to be quite inspirational. Of course, I'm a good friend, a _supportive _friend, so I'm going to let her know exactly what I found out earlier. But I'm also going to have a little fun while doing it. I'm going to play my _own _game of cat and mouse.

And _I'm_ not the one who's going to be the mouse.

Trying to look as nonchalant as I can, I turn around and look at her. "So you've made up your mind, huh?"

She nods fervently. "Yes yes. Made up."

"And there's absolutely no way I can change it?"

She furiously shakes her head. "No. No way."

"Fine. So I guess I'll just say hello to the boys for you, then."

Her head perks up.

"Boys?" she asks.

"Yep."

Her brows furrow. "Did not know boys would be there."

I give an exaggerated shrug. "Well, originally it wasn't the _plan _for them to be there. At first, we decided it was just going to be a 'Girls Only' thing. But we were talking about it yesterday and we thought, heck, what a great opportunity for a little eye candy."

"Eye candy?"

"Hard bodies, Mrr. Hard bodies."

Eyes widening, she inclines her head in expectation. "_Whose _bodies?"

"Oh, I don't know," I reply, as I begin to fantasize about one 'hard body' in particular, a body with the strength of three men. "There were a few names being bandied about. But what do _you _care? You're not going, anyway."

"I do _not _care," she says forcefully, her face taking on a look of complete indifference. "Was merely making polite conversation."

"All right then."

There is a long silence. I find myself whistling away as I stuff the last of my things into my bag.

"Which names?"

Bingo.

"Well, Spock's for one."

"Honored Vulcan is going also?" she says in hushed tones.

"Mmm-hmm, you see, even _he _doesn't mind getting a little wet once in a while." Actually, he does. But the thought of his mostly naked girlfriend being surrounded by mostly naked men was more than enough to dissolve any trepidation. That boy is a master of many emotions, but jealousy is not one of them.

Deciding it's time to move in for the kill, I turn around and look at her with the most innocent of expressions. "Speaking of boys, Mrr, how are things going between you and a certain...Young Navigator?"

She eyes me suspiciously. "Why you ask?"

I hide my smirk. Everybody knows that there's an undeniable attraction between her and Pavel, but both of them are just too shy to take it to the next level.

"Oh, I don't know," I reply, as I run my finger across the zipper of my bag, "it's just that Martha Landon happened to mention his name at lunch today, and-"

"That smoothskin bitch?" she yells, her voice spewing venom. "Why would _she_. Mention _his _name. To _anyone_?"

Mrr's rage reminds me of how I don't like Landon, either. Yeah, she hangs out with our group sometimes, along with Janice and the other yeomen, but if it was up to me, she'd be hanging outside with the warp nacelles. Every time she brings refreshments to the bridge, she makes googly eyes at Spock. Of course, he's always oblivious to it. And of course, I'm not in the least worried about it. But still...he's _my _territory. And now, it looks like Landon's got her sights set on my roomie's territory. Well, I think it's high time for that smoothskin bitch - as Mrr most aptly described her - to learn her proper place on this ship.

"Oh, no reason, Mrr. No reason at all." I place a finger on my chin. "Though now that I think of it, she _did _say something about meeting him there, and-"

"Meeting. Him. There? Grrrrrr..." Her hackles rising, she springs off her bed and hurries to our dresser.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To starbase. To buy water clothing."

"So you're coming?" I inquire excitedly.

"Yes," she says, tearing opening the top drawer and grabbing her little black wallet.

"But what about 'water is death'?"

"Caitians adapt," she states, not sparing me a glance as she heads for the exit.

"By the way, Mrr, the proper term is 'bathing suit'."

She spins to face me, her eyes glaring wildly. "Rrrwwoooorr! Whatever!" Swiveling back around, she marches out the door.

"Just trying to help," I reply, my lips curving upwards into a victorious grin.

**The End**


End file.
